


Netflix and Chill

by enigmairi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, John Laurens is too good for this world, M/M, Sickfic, alexander hamilton: human disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6768721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmairi/pseuds/enigmairi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex had plans for Saturday. He and John were going to sleep in, have a nice brunch, take a romantic walk and, if everything went according to plan, get spectacularly laid.  </p><p>Alex's immune system had other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Netflix and Chill

It had been a rough week, but there was a lightness to Alex's step as he turned the corner into his street late on Friday evening. The last of the papers and summer internship applications which had been occupying so much of his time recently had been submitted and two whole days of weekend were stretched out invitingly in front of him. Two whole days to catch up on sleep, eat real food, and spend time with John.

The last few weeks had been hard on both of them. While Alex was wrestling deadlines, John had been shadowing an experienced doctor in the nearby ER. His long shifts had been followed by intensive study sessions where he wrote up a diary of his experiences and cross-referenced it with his textbooks. Even though they had barely seen each other, apart from occasionally working or sleeping in the same room, Alex couldn't help but notice that John had come back every day looking more tired and stressed than before. But last night was his last shift and now he was in desperate need of a break. 

As he climbed the stairs to their apartment, Alex took a moment to go over his plans for Saturday in his head. He had sketched out an entire day of activities dedicated to looking after John, but carefully chosen so as not to draw too heavily on their limited energy or finances. They would start by sleeping in, then Alex would cook a nice brunch for the two of them. After that he'd suggest that they headed into the city for a walk in Central Park, where John could enthuse about the leaves unfurling on the trees and the wildlife that had returned from winter hibernation or migrations, and Alex could watch him sketch or take photographs. In the evening they would retire to their apartment to eat takeout, drink wine, and, if everything went according to plan, get spectacularly laid. It was going to be awesome. 

Alex let himself into the apartment quietly, not sure if John would be asleep and determined not to wake him if he was. As it turned out John was awake, but the way he was curled up in the armchair, head supported by one hand as he blinked sleepily at the book held in the other, suggested that this wouldn't be the case for much longer. 

John looked up as he registered the noise of the door. “Hey, you're home. Did you manage to get everything done?” 

Alex shrugged off his coat and messenger bag, perched on the arm of John's chair to press a kiss to the top of his head. John leaned into it, putting his arms round Alex's waist in a slightly awkward hug. 

“Yeah, finally. I hope you weren't waiting up for me because you look exhausted.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Hamilton. I'm trying to get my sleep patterns back to normal after doing night shifts.”

“Ah. So how was your last night?”

“Fine." John waved a hand dismissively. "Are you hungry? I made pasta earlier and there's a plate for you if you want it.”

“You are the best of boyfriends.”

Alex headed to the kitchen area to reheat his dinner, and John took a moment to stretch and roll his shoulders before following him. John leaned against the kitchen counter and seemed to study Alex as he busied himself with the microwave.

“John, you're staring. What's up?”

“Your voice sounds kinda rough. Are you feeling okay?”

Alex cleared his throat self-consciously. “I'm fine. Long day, class participation. I swear, if Socrates had had to contend with Aaron Burr he might have had second thoughts about his teaching method.”

“You're sure that's all it is?” John looked skeptical. 

“I'm sure. I'm just tired” Alex scrubbed a hand over his face. “It's been a long week. Sorry, but I'm probably just going to eat this and then crash.”

“No need to apologize. Actually, I think I might get ready for bed now – 9.30 counts as a reasonable bedtime, right?”

“After a week of night shifts in an ER? Absolutely. I'll be in soon.”

“Okay, but I'll probably be asleep by then.” John leaned towards Alex for a goodnight kiss before turning towards the bedroom. 

The microwave beeped and Alex retrieved his dinner. Yeah, he wasn't feeling amazing, but he was just tired. All he needed was a decent meal and a good night's sleep, and in the morning he would be ready to put his plan into action. 

***

Alex woke up the next morning and immediately regretted it. Sleep hadn't made as much of a difference as he had hoped – if anything he felt worse than he had the night before. He decided that he must have slept for too long, that always left him feeling out of sorts. Yes, that was definitely it. 

He pulled himself upright, squinting against the sunlight and a headache, and checked the other side of the bed. John was still dead to the world, which meant that Alex had plenty of time to work on phase one of his plan. All he had to do was get up, knock back some water and aspirin, maybe a couple of cups of coffee, and then he could power through this. John needed a nice, relaxing day and Alex wasn't going to let him down. 

The world outside of the bedcovers was colder than it had any right to be, so Alex grabbed a hoodie from the bedroom floor. Bending over so quickly left him lightheaded and he had to pause with one hand on the wall while he waited for the world to stop spinning, but then he was on his way to the kitchen. 

Alex flicked the “on” switch on the coffee maker and poured himself a glass of water, which he sipped cautiously. His throat felt raw, but he made himself drink a little over half of it before deciding to investigate the contents of the refrigerator. John had shopped for groceries the day before so there was plenty of food, but this morning exactly none of it looked appealing to Alex. He closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it while he gathered his thoughts; today was supposed to be about John, so he should make something that John would like. 

He tried to focus on figuring out whether John would prefer pancakes or an omelet this morning, but it was difficult with that strange burning smell putting him off the idea of food altogether. One of their neighbors must have really screwed up this morning, because it smelled like they were burning stale coffee. 

Coffee? 

Alex turned round to see tendrils of smoke rising from the coffee maker. He had forgotten to clean and refill it before he went to bed last night, so now the dregs of yesterday's pot had boiled dry on the heating element. He grabbed an oven mitt to transfer the pot to the sink, but just before he could get it under running water the smoke alarm went off and all hell broke loose. 

There was a thump from the bedroom as John launched himself out of bed and lurched into the kitchen, pajamas still rumpled and with pillow creases on one side of his face.

“Alex? Fuck.”

Upstairs, the neighbors' dog started howling in protest at the alarm, the added noise further intensifying Alex's headache. John grabbed a dish towel and waved it frantically under the alarm's sensor.

“Shitting, fucking bastard thing.”

Finally, the alarm stopped, followed a few seconds later by the dog. 

Alex lowered his shoulders from their ear-level cringe and turned off the faucet. 

“Well.” John braced his hands against the counter and took a deep breath. “That was one hell of an alarm.”

Alex nodded silently.

“Hey, are you alright?” John eyed Alex critically.

“I -” Alex's voice came out as hoarse whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again “I'm fine.”

“Bullshit. Your voice is wrecked, you're shivering in a warm room and you look awful. You're sick, aren't you?”

“It's not that bad.”

“Yeah? Then let me check your temperature.” John reached towards Alex with the back of his hand, but he flinched away. 

“It's okay, really. And that's not very scientific –”

Alex tried to dodge around John, but he was too slow. John grabbed him round the waist with one arm and pressed his other hand to Alex's forehead. 

“You're definitely running a fever. Now, be honest, how bad is this? Do you think you need to see a doctor?”

“What? No! I'll be fine.” Alex wriggled out of John's grasp.

“Okay, but your throat is obviously bothering you, so would you let me take a look? Just to make sure you don't need to get antibiotics?”

Alex's first instinct was to refuse, but he could see that John was worried. He wrapped his arms around himself, as much for warmth as for comfort, then nodded slowly. 

“Sit down here and I'll be right back.”

John steered Alex to the couch, and he must have zoned out for a moment because the next thing he knew John was sitting down opposite him on the coffee table, the stethoscope looped round his neck looking out of place next to his pajama pants and old t-shirt. He deposited his penlight and the thermometer from their bathroom cabinet on the table, before placing a hand on Alex's knee and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. 

“Apart from your throat, does anything else hurt or feel wrong?”

“Headache.” Now that Alex was sitting down he felt utterly drained, as if admitting to his illness had used up the last of the energy he had to fight against it. 

“Nothing else?” Alex shook his head. “I'll get you some painkillers in a minute. Now, could you open your mouth for me?” John picked up the penlight and directed the beam into Alex's throat. 

“Hmm. Well, it doesn't look like tonsillitis, so you probably don't need antibiotics.” John closed Alex's mouth with one finger under the chin, then moved his hands to feel underneath Alex's jaw. “But your glands are really swollen. You must be feeling pretty crappy, yeah?” 

Alex gave a half-hearted shrug and looked down at his lap. 

“Aww, honey.” John took a moment to brush Alex's hair back from his face, before slipping back into professional mode again. “How's your breathing?”

“Okay, I think?”

“You don't sound very sure; can I check?”

Alex nodded.

“Okay, but while I'm doing that you can check your temperature the scientific way, since you object to my other methods.” John handed Alex the thermometer as he changed places to sit on the couch. He warmed the bell of the stethoscope against his hand before sliding it under Alex's clothes. “Deep breaths.”

The room was silent for a minute as John worked. “You sound a little congested but nothing too serious. What was your temp?” 

“100.9”

“Then I don't think you need to go to urgent care, but you're not going anywhere else either. You need to get some rest and let me look after you.”

“Urgh. I had things I wanted to do this weekend.” Alex curled up against the arm of the couch in a sulk.

“I know babe, but the work will still be there in a couple of days when you're feeling better.” John laid a hand on Alex's ankle, not sure if he would accept a more overt gesture of comfort. “Now, do you want to go back to bed or stay here on the couch.”

“Couch.”

“That's okay, we can do that. I'll get you some blankets from the bedroom, then see what we can do to get you feeling a little better.”

As soon as John's back was turned, Alex threw an arm over his eyes in a melodramatic fashion. It blocked out the light, which helped his headache, but the sulk itself wasn't as satisfying as he had hoped. Getting sick was definitely not part of the plan. The whole idea was to give John a break from taking care of other people, not land him with another patient. 

He was startled out of his moping as John – the sneaky, noble, self-sacrificing bastard – gently laid the bed-covers over him. 

“Hey, what do you want for breakfast?”

“'m not hungry.”

“I'm not letting you take a bunch of meds on an empty stomach.” John pottered into the kitchen to check their supplies. “There's yogurt, or I could make oatmeal. Or is there something else that sounds good?”

Alex scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. The idea of John having to make him breakfast this morning stung. It wasn't fair.

“Yogurt's fine.”

“Okay, yogurt it is, and you've got to eat at least some of it.” John reappeared with a tray, which he set down on the coffee table. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm fine.”

John sat down on the edge of the couch and placed a hand on the back of Alex's neck. “You're not; you're upset. Now, are you going to tell me why, or are you going to pretend to be all stoic about it?” There was a pause, which John took advantage of to hand Alex a bowl. “Okay, but if you're not going to talk you can at least eat your breakfast while not-talking.”

Alex stirred his yogurt listlessly, alternating between taking small mouthfuls and using it as something to do with his hands. 

“I'm sorry. This isn't what I planned.”

“Nobody plans to get sick. It happens and we deal with it.”

“But I wanted to surprise you. I planned out this really nice day for the two of us.”

“We can do it another time.”

“Yeah, but you deserve something nice today. You've been working so hard, and now you're looking after me. You should take a break, call Lafayette or Eliza, make plans.”

“But I don't want to make plans. I don't want to go anywhere.”

“I'll be fine on my own, you don't need to babysit me while I lie around watching movies in my pajamas.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alex, I've had a difficult week, I'm really tired, and all I want to do today is stay in and not have to worry about big, scary, life-or-death stuff.” 

“Are you okay?” It was Alex's turn to look at John with concern.

“I think so, but a day of watching movies in my pajamas sounds like exactly what I need right now.” 

“You're not just saying that?”

“I'm not just saying that. So do you want some company today?”

“I always want your company.”

John leaned over to kiss Alex's temple. “Good. Then I'm totally at your disposal for the rest of the day.”

“I meant what I said about not needing a babysitter.”

“I'm not trying to babysit you.” John sighed wearily. “You know, you really sound like you should be resting your your voice.” 

“Concern troll.”

John rolled his eyes. “Just shut up and take your damn pills.”

Alex stuck his tongue out, but it was only a token protest and he gratefully accepted the water and painkillers that John handed to him.

“Do you want tea? I'll go make us some tea.”

There was a disgruntled huff from Alex, which turned into cough. 

“No, you can't have coffee.”

Alex pulled a face as John retreated into the kitchen. His original plan had well and truly gone to shit, so maybe this meant it was time for a new plan. He snuggled into the blankets and started plotting the best way to convince John, using as few words as possible, that this would be a good opportunity to start working their way though all of the Marvel movies in order. 

***

“I remember a time in our relationship when “Netflix and chill” meant something sexier than this.”

Alex had been restless all through Captain America, unable to find a comfortable position, but around the time Tony Stark woke up in a cave in Afghanistan he had settled with his head in John's lap, where he was receiving some exquisite head scritches. John playfully tugged at his hair as payback for this comment. 

“Do you honestly think you're up to having sex right now? Anyway, I'm pretty sure that moving in together means it's no longer realistic to expect an orgasm every time we watch tv.”

“It was just an observation; I'm not complaining. This is nice. Comfortable.”

“Yeah, it is”

“And we're comfortable with each other, aren't we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we can talk to each other, right?”

John's hands stilled in Alex's hair. “Of course. Is there something we need to talk about?”

“Not me, I'm supposed to be resting my voice. But I think you need it. To talk, that is.”

John teased out a small section of Alex's hair and started to braid it. He tried to ignore the meaningful silence and the hand that Alex placed on his knee, stubbornly continuing with the task he had set himself. It was only after he had braided three sections that he dragged his hands through his own hair and started to talk. 

“I always knew med school was going to be hard work; I was ready for the hours, for the intellectual challenge, but psychologically? It's so much harder than I expected.”

Alex stroked his knee in silent encouragement. 

“These last few weeks I've seen patients who wanted to turn down pain relief because they were worried about how much it would cost. People who ignored their symptoms for weeks because going to the doctor costs money and they've got to pay rent and feed their kids. Or who can't get mental health treatment until they're in crisis...”

Alex levered himself up into a sitting position to bring himself to John's eye level. 

“It's not as if these people are beyond help – we could help them but it's not good for _business_ to hand out medical care to people just because they need it. And I'm going to be part of this system that puts money ahead of people. I don't know how to deal with that.”

John leaned forward and dug the heels of both hands into his eyes, but Alex reached an arm across his shoulders to pull him into a hug. John resisted for a few seconds before allowing himself to give in to it. He settled his head on to Alex's shoulder and returned the embrace.

“Oh, John.” Alex started to rub one hand up and down John's back in a steady, soothing rhythm. 

“I'm sorry. I was supposed to be looking after you today, not –”

“Okay, I'm going to stop you right there. I'm not so incapacitated that I can't give my damn boyfriend a hug. I know that looking after other people is practically coded into your DNA, but you've got to remember that this relationship goes both ways. We look after each other, and not just when it's easy.” 

“I can't believe you're lecturing me about knowing when to ask for help.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

John huffed a small, quiet laugh.

“You care so much, and that's what will make you a brilliant doctor, you just need to find the right place to do it. There are charities, free clinics, Planned Parenthood, or we could always move Europe. Ooh, we should move to London – you can give people free healthcare and I'll get to wear a gown and wig in court. It'll be awesome.”

This drew a genuine smile from John. “You're crazy.” 

“I prefer to think of myself as ambitious. Now, come here.”

Alex leaned back against the arm of the couch, pulling John with him. He arranged the two of them so that he was reclining with John's head pillowed on his chest, and pulled the blankets around both of them in a protective cocoon. 

“I meant what I said, John. I'm here; I've got your back.” 

“Yeah, and I've got yours.”

“I never doubted that for a second.”

***

John stood up and stretched as the movie's final credits rolled. Alex had fallen asleep and was snoring softly with his head tilted back, the rising colour in his cheeks reminding John that he was overdue for another round of medication. However he seemed settled and John decided that it would be a shame to wake him, so he made himself useful by collecting their empty mugs and glasses to take back to the kitchen. 

As he was washing up he heard the sounds of Alex stirring: a creaking floorboard, a toilet flush, and finally the shuffling footsteps in the kitchen doorway.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” 

Alex groaned and leaned his head against John's shoulder. “Urgh. Still gross. How are you doing?”

“Hanging in there.” John brushed some stray hairs out of Alex's face and put a hand to his forehead. As expected, it was too warm. “Do you want more meds?”

Alex pulled back and yawned into his elbow, wincing at the pain in his throat. “Please?” 

“Come on, let's get you back into the blanket nest.”

Alex allowed himself to be led back to the couch like a sleepwalker; tucked in and medicated without any resistance, and with the minimum of effort on his part. Exhaustion tended to make him docile once he got beyond a certain point, and John always found this change in his behavior a little unnerving. 

With Alex tucked in, John set up the next movie – Iron Man 2, because Alex “refused to acknowledge any Hulk other than Ruffalo” – before taking a seat on his usual side of the couch. Just as he was getting settled, he heard a sleepy whimper and a rustle of fabric. Alex had scooted as far as he could into the back of the couch and was patting the space in front of him, inviting John to lie down in it.

It was a tight squeeze, but John wasn't the kind of person to say no to his sick boyfriend, so he lay on his side with Alex spooned behind behind him, lazily stroking his arm

Yeah, they had each other's backs.


End file.
